FIGHTING THE POWER: the Blackout Edition
by shywr1ter
Summary: Christmas in July gift for latenightrain: M/L; early S1. Max's curiosity to see how Logan's doing during a late night blackout leads to new revelations... and a whole new connection between them. AU for rushing things.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed; no profits made. **

_**Christmas in July Challenge '09: a Gift for Latenightrain**_

**A/N:** the first installment of a Secret Santa entry for our third (annual! :}) Christmas in July Challenge/Story festival. Giftee Latenightrain said, generously, that her wish list was more suggestion than demand and needn't be taken too seriously, but I think I can get pretty close to what she has requested. In the "what to avoid" column she listed _songfic_ (but you know that just makes me want to stick one on at the end as a spoof, right?) As her want-list, she wrote:

1) A Brownout _(leave it to me to be technical, but I'm gonna use 'blackout' no matter what they call it on the show, because no one would really notice a brownout... )_

2) Maybe a brownout leading to a little romance _(see above note)_

3) Water, a lot or a little

4) Maybe the line, "Two more minutes and we would have made it"

_**This takes place in very early S1, a few days after events in Episode 1 x 3, Flushed. **_**Canon for now, but will soon detour into AU-land...**

_Merry Christmas, Latenightrain and everyone!_

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**FIGHTING THE POWER: the Blackout Edition**

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The blackout had flickered into Crash at 11:47 p.m., and by 12:18 it has pretty well shut the place down. In the case of a blackout lasting more than five minutes, the city's businesses were under strictly enforced ordinances to close any establishment still open after dark, in an effort to enforce Seattle's blackout curfew.

It was a well-oiled drill at Crash, given the city's frequent electrical failures. At the five minute mark, the bartender, Murray, yelled out that it was closing time and his customers, like those around Max's table, finished off their pitchers, unhurried – they knew they had another ten or fifteen minutes before Murray would start manhandling them out the door. Sketchy, in his own well-oiled – and 'well-lubricated' – drill, got up to see which hotties were still lingering around the bar, pretending he was just bumbling in the dark despite the handful of candles along the wall and the kerosene lanterns at the doors.

Max watched him as he wandered off, weaving through the tables with enough avoidance of obstacles, even in his alcohol-assisted haze, that she amused herself by wondering if he could see in the dark as well as she could with her feline DNA-enhanced night vision. He always managed to find the hottest shorties in these blackouts, even under the noses of their boyfriends, sometimes. She wondered how many more times he would manage before he got himself pummeled...

Original Cindy had emptied the table's last pitcher into Kendra and Max's glasses after Herbal declined and said goodnight. Max turned back to the others with a frown, feeling restless and definitely not ready to call it a night. "This sucks," she announced.

"_Really_ sucks if the lights go out before I find someone to spend it with," Kendra giggled. "Did any of you see where that big, dark haired guy went, the one with those _arms?_"

Max glanced over to the bar where she saw the big biker-type Kendra had ogled earlier, and saw him locked in a steamy, 'let's take this to my place' full-body grope with a local male prostitute. "I think he left already," she lied smoothly, grinning to herself. She drained the little bit of beer she had left and stood, looking at the others. "You ready?"

She waited as the other two finished their drinks and gathered their things, and they began making their way outside. "So, Max – you coming home or are you going to go see if Logan's all tucked in?" Kendra teased, her raspy, little-girl voice not hiding her leering for a minute.

"Why would I go see Logan?" Max snorted, defensively – again. It had taken several days and at least three conversations with Original Cindy, then two more with Logan, but Max had finally discovered, to her discomfort, that Cindy and Logan had made quite a connection a few days ago, and apparently Cindy then shared all she knew with Max's roommate. And on a daily basis since, either one or the other – but usually both – seemed to be hell-bent on getting Max over to Logan's. They acted as if they expected Logan to jump her bones – or her, his – any minute.

The tag-team booty prompts had started when Max had left the pair to go see Logan after she and Original Cindy returned from Langford and regaled a stunned Kendra with stories of Max's imprisonment, Original Cindy's 'undercover mission' to spring Max and their rescue of Maria. While Max was still there, Cindy made it plain that the entire rescue had been engineered by Logan, so she could only imagine what the women had gossiped about after she left to go see him. Original Cindy must have filled Kendra in on whatever had passed between her and Logan as they plotted the jail break, because ever since then it seemed that Cindy was Logan's best advocate, and neither woman passed up a chance to ask about him. And it wasn't only them: ever since they'd sprung Max from Langford, Logan would ask how Cindy was doing, and then also remember to ask, politely, about Kendra and the Jam Pony bunch. It was definitely unsettling.

Original Cindy's unprompted observations came daily, usually variations of the theme that, for a male, he seemed to be unusually perceptive and generous – and clearly enamored Max. When offered in Kendra's presence, they were immediately echoed by her. Earlier that very night, Cindy had reminded Max that she could do far, far worse than Logan, which of course had Kendra again wondering out loud if he were really all that injured, _that way,_ followed by her ready assurances that a man of the world like Logan would certainly have all sorts of ideas for her, even so, if some of his more interesting parts weren't working quite the way they used to...

Max had tried yet again to wave it off, feigning immediate and complete dismissal, in the rapidly fading hope that if she didn't acknowledge their words, they'd lose interest and stop bringing up Logan. But they weren't buying it, and even Max found herself starting to wonder if she wasn't interested in Logan like that, or if there could ever be more than just a working relationship ...

_...because, bottom line: how would it feel to be __**only**__ that to him, just a handy cat-burglar? _There had been a few moments, since she'd been helping with Eyes Only, that she thought there was a little more in his eyes, something that made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her – a soldier? A woman? An experiment? _What if he just __**wasn't**__ interested in anything more than her prowess as a sneak thief?_ Not infrequently, she remembered his unexpected words and her even more unexpected reaction to them...

"'_course not. You and I don't have that kind of relationship."_

His words had stung; she had no idea why. They kept echoing in her head and she wondered why. He'd used _that_ tone, he said those words ... and she was still aching to know _why..._

But at that moment, Kendra was voicing her immediate response to the question Max had intended to be more rhetorical than literal – _should've known they're not giving up, Max_, she kicked herself. "Because it's a blackout and he lives way up on top of a tall building, no working elevator, in a wheelchair. You ever see a cat stuck way up in a tree, Max?" Kendra tried.

"Yeah, and they come down on their own, eventually," Max grumbled, head back in the present.

A commotion interrupted their conversation and they all turned to see Sketchy being physically tossed from the bar, jeans around his knees and his boxers – literally – in a twist. Only seconds later, a very young, very giggly blonde was unceremoniously led out of Crash by the wrist by a very angry looking older woman, who managed to aim a foot and a few curse words at Sketchy as they passed.

He was undaunted. Staggering to his feet, he watched the pair storm away and, seeing that his friends had seen the show and now eyed him expectantly, grinned, "two more minutes and we would have made it."

Original Cindy rolled her eyes. "Get in the car, fool. Kendra an' me will take yo' sorry ass home before you get yourself killed." Without waiting to see if he complied, she looked back to Max to add her two cents, clearly serious in her concern for Logan. "I know I wouldn't like bein' way up there and figurin' I wasn't exactly gonna make it out too fast if I had to."

"He's not gonna have to run anywhere – it's not like he's a squatter," Max drawled. "And there are security guys and all that..." Max still frowned, but her voice had grown softer as she considered Logan's predicament. Oblivious in her consideration, she missed the knowing – and triumphant– looks Kendra and Original Cindy threw each other.

_She'd been up there not that long ago when the power when out, and he hadn't seemed all that rattled that he was stuck up there without his own way down. Of course, at the time, she was in such a bad way with her seizures she hadn't thought much beyond herself, first to try to tame the spasms and try to hide the obvious from him. Once he promised her he'd watch over her, all she could sense was her own relief and gratitude. When she awoke, power was back... _

"...and he never said it was a big deal," she added, still defensive.

_But...__**did**__ it bother him?_

"Max, you think that's something he's gonna say?" Kendra pressed, patiently, again making clear she thought Max was completely naive when it came to the ways of men. "No guy is gonna tell you he's afraid, or feels vulnerable. At least ... not until you make it clear it's safe for him to confide in you," she grinned suggestively.

"Look, Logan is a big boy; he has money and security guys and people working for him. He's better off even in the worst blackout than any of us are on a good day," she tossed. This offensive they were mounting was starting to bug her. _What was in it for them, anyhow? Certainly Logan had nothing to do with it himself – did he?_ "No way it is worth the sector cops makin' _me_ spend the night in lock up while he's up there all fat and happy in his cozy nest." They reached her bike and Kendra's car.

"You just think about it, Boo, and what the boy might be feelin' – that's all I'm sayin,'" Original Cindy walked around Kendra's car to the passenger side. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Max finally smiled a little. _Real sisters, these two,_ she thought._ On my nerves just like real ones are supposed to be..._

"So you're coming right home?" Kendra asked, still teasingly skeptical – and still highly motivated to get her over to Logan's, apparently. Max could see her hopes were up.

"Don't know, Mom," Max drawled. "Don't wait up." She tried to ignore the smile of success. _Let her think I'm headed right over to see him,_ Max muttered to herself. _Whatever..._

She started up her bike, calculating as she did the best streets to reach the Space Needle without drawing the attention of cops looking to enforce the curfew. She took the first alleys in that direction, but as she did, her casual, 'he's a big boy' attitude started to fade. It wasn't so much Kendra's unbelieving look that bothered her, but something about Cindy's, as if she'd let her down – as if Max were letting _Logan_ down...

... _again._

Max hated the feeling that she hadn't been there for Logan when she could have been, and even before Cindy made her rather good point, concern had started nibbling away at her: _he'd gotten his penthouse back when he was on his feet, when thirty five flights might be a hassle in a blackout, but no more than that. Now..._

She slowed slightly and made another tight, efficient u-turn in the darkened street, then stopped to think.

After the first job she'd done for him, once he was back at it – and after he'd not only found Hannah but managed to fool Lydecker into letting her slip past him, Hannah in tow – he'd confessed to her that he'd "always been terrified of heights." At the time, she wasn't too sure whether or not to believe him. Between the million dollar smile and the thirty fifth floor penthouse where he sat as he told her that, it just seemed unlikely, and from what she'd seen from him so far, she'd figured it was probably just what he thought was a charming feint.

_But what if he __**was**__ afraid of heights? And now, up there, no elevator for a fast escape on wheels? Wouldn't it scare the piss out of him? _And even if he wasn't all that afraid of heights under normal circumstances, what about without electricity, thirty five floors up and no easy way to get down, if he needed to?

With an irritated huff, she started up the engine again and headed back toward Sector 9. She wasn't sure what she'd say to him, just dropping in on him so late. And maybe he'd just done what every other person did during a nighttime blackout – just go to bed.

_Yeah – I can see that_, she snorted to herself. She had a hunch he was one of those 'up 'til dawn' types...

Destination in mind now, Max rode through the back streets less favored by law enforcement, cutting back her speed to let her engine run a little more quietly, and finally let her thoughts go places she had managed to avoid this far – at least directly. She hadn't known Logan more than a few hours when he was shot, really; when she'd seen him since, he appeared to be stubbornly unwilling to treat his injury as anything more than an irritating inconvenience. She wondered if he really felt that way, underneath.

Given his Eyes Only thing and the need he'd have for secrecy, he must have done a lot of the investigations himself, and that would mean getting in and out of tough spots, dealing with some pretty rough players – wouldn't it? Hell, he was shot while running one of his ops, himself – she refused to give in to the little voice in her head reminding her who _else_ should have been along for that one – so being stuck in a wheelchair now had to be a pretty different thing for him. _From active and mobile to ... to hours at a computer. From running things himself to waiting for others to do them?_

_...and wasn't that what she hated the most about her seizures, really? Moving in minutes from being revved up and super-human and stronger than anyone on the block, to being completely immobilized?_

Frowning, Max leaned over her bike and increased her speed just a little more. _Take away the guy's mobility and it must be hard on him – but he clams up and moves to the 'Net to investigate and do his deals. And when the blackouts take __**that**__ away, too..._

She had no idea how Eyes Only – or Logan – would be taking things. She just knew how much she hated Manticore and her seizures for the feeling of impotence and helplessness that swallowed her as her body thrashed with uncontrollable spasms, even if short lived. And now – thanks to _him_ – she knew how much it meant to have someone to be there for her, after all this time, beside her, patiently watching over her while she was in the throes of helplessness...

And all that was finally enough to make it really important, at the moment, for Max to go see just how Logan Cale was taking this one...

**To be continued.**


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed; no profits made. **

**A/N:** Please see Chapter I for the details about how this gift for Latenightrain came about. Sorry that this one's a bit slow but it came to a good stopping point, given what's ahead. Chapter 3 is half-done already, due to the delay caused by FFN's weekend illness! So hope to have more fairly soon.

_I was so pleased to see how many ML fans we still have, and thank everyone so much for the reviews. It's so good to know you're out there! Please let me keep hearing from you, whatever your comments...  
_

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**FIGHTING THE POWER: Blackout Edition**

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"Oh, _fine_..." Logan muttered aloud as the lights – in the kitchen down the hall, on his monitor – flickered, rose back momentarily, then snuffed out into velvety charcoal around him.

It could have been worse – he'd managed to capture and print some of the data he'd been chasing, including an updated blueprint of the city council's business office and, even better, the location and layout of the mayor's 'private' offices. Word was that His Honor used these offices to run not only his illicit business deals but, to keep them from the prying eyes of his family, his dalliances. At least he'd have these handy, no matter how long the power would be out this time, to review with Max for her next assignment.

Which got him thinking. _Wonder if it would be easier or harder for Max to do either of these break-ins during a black-out?_ he mused. Curfew violations and thefts of all sorts could be more frequent during black-outs, so the local police were on heightened alert, sometimes even calling out extra manpower – but security for government offices might go just the opposite way. _Would they figure that the usual security is more than enough, given that the additional patrols by the Seattle PD would catch nearly everyone who'd be on their way to snatching the mayor's records?_ Maybe Max would have some ideas on that...

Logan snorted to himself as he backed away from the computer and went toward the kitchen with his coffee mug to salvage his hot coffee before it cooled. _Max probably hasn't had a lot of reason to check the comings and goings of the mayor's detail_, _but if I ever need to know the patrol schedule for the security guards in Uncle Jonas's neighborhood..._

He pulled out the generous thermal carafe he kept for times like these and, first adding a mouthful to his half-empty mug, poured the rest of the still-fresh pot of coffee into the carafe, feeling guilt nettle him immediately following that last, uncharitable thought.

_**That's**__ hardly fair, _he prodded himself. _Look at where she lives – she's a squatter in a derelict, half-finished building. If she were really larcenous she'd have set herself up in a place three times bigger than Jonas's, with all the trappings. Between swiping a few priceless pieces of artwork, or spending just one night at a high stakes casino, or all sorts of other things Max could do, she could have limitless, untraceable cash to do with as she pleased, and she's smart enough to know how to do it without causing much suspicion. Instead, she works at a messenger service for slave wages and meager tips. _

_And just how many people in her circumstances would do __**that?**_

Logan sealed the thermos tightly, providing himself with have hot coffee for at least a few more hours, even without power, and let the now-familiar tug at his curiosity override his discomfort at his literal powerlessness.

_Max._

The more he learned about her and the others, and the more he got to know _her_, the more questions he had. She had an attitude, that was certain. She was a street-punk, all tough and independent – who teared up at the decade-old photo of another Manticore alumnus like her. She was in it for herself and walked out on a chance to help keep Sophie and Lauren safe, but then put herself right in Sonrisa's lap, amid his goons, right there, in his home, to rescue Sophie and get them both to safety. She'd pulled _him_ out from under an assassin's nose, then pretended it never happened.

She was tough; she was tender. She was abrasive; she was sentimental. She was a self-centered punk kid; she was creative and clever and had saved the day for Sophie and Lauren. For him. For Maria.

_She's beautiful_, he heard himself think, suddenly aware he'd stopped moving and was just sitting there, motionless, in the kitchen, once again lost in his thoughts of Max. He snorted and felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment even though he was alone, remembering the amusement he'd seen in both Bling and Original Cindy a few days before when they'd seen him, so focused on rescuing her. He'd been trying to get Max's ass out of Langford, no easy feat, and at least Bling understood precisely why it was so critical he do so, even if Cindy hadn't. Did they expect him to be unconcerned?

_What they hell had they seen in him, that they both felt moved to mention it? And worse – did he look that way around __**her**__, too? _

Logan grunted softly, shaking off his irritation, and got his mind back on the blackout. He glanced over at the refrigerator then at his watch, and mentally ran through the list of what he had inside and what he might want to keep a little longer. As did most people these days, he kept his freezer prepared in case of power outages: old plastic milk jugs filled with water were shoved in to fill any unused space, thereby adding to the efficiency of the freezer while power was on. When the power went off and stayed off for more than a very few hours, the frozen jugs came out to make room in the freezer compartment for milk, cheese, or other items that needed to stay cool, and the jugs that wouldn't still fit went into a cooler or the refrigerator as an ice-pack, to help maintain the cooler air for the less susceptible items like his fresh vegetables. He wouldn't open either door until it was time to switch things around and when he did, it would be quick and precise, no wasted time and no letting out any more cold air than was absolutely necessary.

_11:34_, he considered. Usually not at all late for him, but he'd been at it fairly intensely the past couple weeks – a couple pressing projects, with the added detour brought by Max's visit to Langford and subsequent arrangements to get Maria out to Blake and Mandy's place. _Ass dragging just enough to not be much good at anything, even if the power was on – but if I go to bed now I'd just lay there, thinking about all that I should be doing..._ So he'd wait up for the next couple hours or so to see if the power was restored, and then worry about whether or not to move things around from his fridge. At least he could go through some of the materials he'd printed out in the meantime.

Mental checklist completed, he sighed at the realization of how automatic his little ritual had become. _Am I the only one who can remember not having to do this?_ he wondered, then felt a new nudge of guilt as he considered the fact that at least he had a working refrigerator-freezer.

_And a working phone_, he thought as it rang. He spun out of the kitchen to the computer room to get it. "Yeah," he clipped.

"Mr. Cale, it's Josef, downstairs. Just checking to see if you were in this evening."

It was the call he always got now, during a blackout, the same one Mrs. Moreno and the elderly guy on twelve and the two other wheelchair users always got when the power was out – the 'gimp-count,' he once complained to Bling. _Leave it to Bling to suggest just why it might be a good thing that they did so._ He couldn't deny Bling's logic – or the fact that the calls just as a blunt reminder of why blackouts were more nerve-wracking than they'd ever been before.

"Yeah, Josef, I'm here," Logan focused on keeping his thoughts and voice steady. _Fighting the inevitable is just wasted energy_, he could imagine Bling intoning. "You're working late," he added. Even though there were always three guards on duty – one at the desk, in uniform, as a presence, the other two in a side office in case of problems needing a quick, speedy resolution, the elderly Josef was usually on daytime detail, with the younger, stronger ones assigned at night.

"Marcus went and got himself married, so will be gone on his honeymoon for a few days. I'm just filling in," Josef explained.

"Any inside information about how long this time?" Logan asked.

Since his accident – and the death of Peter, whom the building staff knew to be there frequently as security for their wealthy resident, not all that uncommon in this part of town – the building's security staff tended to check in on him more frequently, figuring he was less able to fend for himself than he used to be. While it rankled Logan for the obvious reasons, he could not be unappreciative of their concern and professionalism in the circumstances.

In the process, one of the security guards, maybe in sympathy with a young guy like him suddenly being grouped with those needing help in evacuating, once confessed to him that the maintenance and security workers up and down the posh street had taken to betting on each blackout. They'd meet briefly in the street to place a dollar or two on the time power would be restored. Because it paid to get inside info, any of them who knew power grid employees, civic improvements workers, or anyone who might have some idea how long it would last would make a quick call and place his bet – then at the close of the betting, they'd all share their information with the others. Logan found with some amusement that the resulting information was usually more accurate than not.

"Yes, sir – Dylan across the street says the whole city's dark this time – a major artery in the grid. His boy works on the main line and they've already called all the workers out on this one."

Logan frowned. "So a day or more, even?"

"Well now, his boy said they just put in some new systems and routers a week ago, like they had before the Pulse. This will be their first real test of things, but if it all works, it might be back by morning – maybe even before."

"Well, that's good news." No matter how cynical he became, Logan couldn't fight that eternal optimist in him that made him feel a bit of hope for his city every time he heard something like this. "Maybe we won't have too many more major blackouts after this one."

"Yes, sir," Josef agreed readily. "You need anything up there, Mr. Cale?"

"No thanks, Josef, I'm good – I'll just hunker down 'til the power's back up."

"You just call if you need anything, we'll be here."

"I will, thanks." Logan cut the call and considered his options for the moment, trying to put the circumstances out of his thoughts but not succeeding too well. _It's not as if I had places to go and things to do during blackouts before, _he chided himself_. I was just as likely to sit up here on my ass and wait it out before I was shot then, too,_ he argued with his mood.

_No I wasn't_, he reminded himself.

He sighed. _Yeah... and no part of __**that**__ was being creeped out by being thirty-five stories above ground with a non-working elevator, was it?_ Well, if it wasn't before, it was now, and with, he liked to think, a damn good reason for his discomfort. But the security guys seemed on it and, when he thought about it, were probably more reliable than the elevator was. The fact that he was unlikely to survive a trip downstairs with his dignity intact, slung over the shoulder of a muscular security guard, didn't make the trip any less effective...

He felt a headache hovering nearby, threatening to start.

He drew a deep breath, straightened, and blew out his breath slowly, noisily. He was all by himself and had just managed to engage in a three-part debate with himself – and, as Bling had taken to reminding him, he was making a lot of this much harder on himself than it needed to be. _Equanimity_, that was Bling – and if a Navy SEAL with black belt in at least one form of martial arts could learn to stay in the moment and become as balanced as any Zen master this side of Tibet, well then, so could he. He even managed to laugh at the schizophrenic path his thoughts had traveled over the past thirty minutes.

_Okay, Cale, suck it up – you've got time on your hands and no electricity. Other than those printouts, anything on the agenda within those parameters?_

Before he could answer that, as he turned to go dig out the candles and get to work, he heard his front door open and close...

**************

Max had ridden her baby about a block away from Logan's building when she cut the power and hopped off, pushing her bike through the alley that ran behind Logan's building and a few equally fancy places on the block. She'd seen the security guys who had turned up when she dropped in on him that first night, and ever since then she had been wary of showing her face again, in case any of them were on the look-out for missing Manticore escapees – who knew what lengths to which Lydecker was still going to track her and her family. Bribing local law enforcement and hired protection to keep their eyes open was probably SOP if he thought she was in the area.

She hid her bike in some bushes and came up to the garage entry, where she could see a small knot of men gathered mid-street, apparently ending a discussion and returning to several of the buildings facing them. She would have to sneak into the lobby to get to the stairs; if she could get in now she'd have fewer of them to notice her. She slipped inside and around the corner toward the stairwell, unseen by the men in the lobby, but the discussion she heard had caught her ear and, now out of visual range, especially for those without enhanced night vision, she lingered – to eavesdrop.

"... 'til morning, most likely; maybe more. You run through the list?"

"Yeah. Two answered; Mr. Porter, nothin.' Mrs. Moreno is out of town. So Cale and Smithson, and maybe Porter."

"And we got only one a' them stairwell chairs..."

"Hell, you really think you want to bump Porter down twenty two flights on that thing while the building is burning? An' Cale's up in the penthouse, _of course,_ the top floor. At least he ain't too big – he's tall, but pretty slim. I'd still rather take my chances on a fireman's carry than a damn chair."

"What about Smithson, though? He's up on twelve but the man's a house, we're gonna need two of us no matter how..."

The men continued debating the evening's safety plan as Max's brow drew further into a frown. Security, yeah, but she hadn't thought about this aspect of things – every time she'd been around the security desk, she'd seen uniformed, quiet doormen, more for calling cabs than effecting a skyscraper rescue. These guys seemed concerned enough and she was sure that they'd give it a shot, if necessary... but if things got bad? Would they abandon Logan and the others here to the not-always-dependable fire department? And even for less dire circumstances – did Logan have any clue what they had in mind for him? She could just see how he'd feel about _that ..._ and suspected it might make any discomfort she'd already imagined for him even worse.

Turning, she slipped into the stairwell and started jogging up the many flights to the penthouse at a steady pace, still wondering what possible reason she could give Logan for her coming here. Her earlier, half-conceived idea that she'd say she stopped in to see if he needed anything was a really _bad_ idea – she had a hunch it might only emphasize the fact that he was, essentially, stranded up in his little nest...

She was running out of floors and still had no great ideas for what to say to him. _Guess it's another time to make it up as I go along_, she decided as she reached his floor and pushed through the door leading into his hallway. Crossing to his front door, Max reached for his door; trying it, she found it unbolted and, with the power down, unsecured. She rolled her eyes at his carelessness. _Good thing I came by before the unscrupulous ones did, at least_, she reflected. _With any luck, maybe he'll be asleep anyway – and won't even know I was here..._

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed; no profits made. **

**A/N:** Please see Chapter I for the details about how this gift for Latenightrain came about.

_Thanks to you who are still reading, and especially those of you who found Chapter 2 despite FFN's recent illness. Would love any and all comments you may have..._

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**FIGHTING THE POWER: Blackout Edition**

**************

Logan froze. The problem with electric security systems and their integrated electric locks was that, in a post-Pulse world, the power went out often enough that a manual lock system was needed too. It wasn't that Logan didn't have one of the best – he did – he just didn't remember to re-lock it on a regular basis. As he started to move, slowly and silently, around the desk into the computer room, toward the drawer where he had a handgun stashed, he kicked himself mentally for tuning out Bling's several lectures on the subject...

He knew his gun wasn't loaded – another topic Bling raised lately – and that would take a few moments to feed and load the clip. Maybe just the sight of a gun would be enough, he hoped, or it wouldn't be needed at all...

"Logan?"

The voice was soft enough not to wake someone sleeping, but loud enough to announce her presence to anyone still awake.

Max.

_Max?_

"...Max?" he asked as he turned, feeling himself relax from the fight or flight reaction he'd had initially at the sound of an intruder. He'd started back toward the hall, but she appeared in the doorway of his computer room before he'd gotten far. "Hey," he said, blinking his surprise at her appearance. An unannounced visit from Max was actually the last thing he expected that night – and definitely a much nicer surprise than just about any other option he could imagine...

"Hey," she nodded with a tight little smile.

She seemed to be a bit awkward in her response, definitely not the smoothly cool, centered customer who usually breezed through his place. Logan's usual curiosity about her spiked with her new demeanor. "Hey," he offered again, unable to manage anything more at the moment. His surprise at her appearance had been further augmented by the incredible scene before him – Max's outline just barely lighted by the moonlight coming through the front windows and the effect of its soft, white light on her cheek... he wondered if there was a way to determine, at that moment, if he was still awake or if he'd fallen asleep at the computer again, and this was just a very realistic dream...

"You know..." A thought seemed to dawn on Max, suddenly, and she hooked a thumb toward the hall behind her, "it's kinda dumb to buy such a great security system and then leave the door unlocked."

"Yeah, I know," he considered her, intrigue heightening as he decided he really was awake. Her apparent uneasiness – just as everything else about her – drew him in. Feeling a bit bolder in the dark, as if it could mask his thoughts as it masked his reactions from her, he tried joking, "So, you joined the sector police? This is a new service, door to door blackout safety inspections?"

But in response, Max threw up her hands in sudden exasperation and turned on her heel, heading back toward the door, surprising Logan even more than her appearance had. "Look, just thought I'd mention it," she tossed over her shoulder. "Have a nice night."

"Max – wait – " Logan blurted, scrambling a little to follow, the combination of his surprise at her immediate retreat and his still-developing familiarity with his chair making his chase less than smooth. Regretting his lame attempt at humor, he called out behind her as she reached the door, "I'm sorry – I was just surprised – and that makes my brain go into stupid joke mode."

She stopped abruptly at the door, and he pulled up to a quick stop behind her. Slowly, she turned to look at him, skeptically. "I'll keep that in mind." From what he could tell in the darker entryway, she didn't seem much more convinced – but at least she hadn't left yet.

When faced with the prospect of Max walking out on him, Logan realized that if he had a lengthy blackout ahead of him, having company – especially _her_ company – would make just about anything easier to take. He dared to smile again. "It's late. You must have needed something to come over in a blackout and run up all those stairs," he tried. "Was there something...?"

"Why? Because the only time I come over is when I need something?" She shifted to jut out her hip and plant a fist high on its crest. Even though she was still dangerously close to his door, he really had nothing to say to argue her point – unless he paged her, it _was_ her only reason for coming by. Despite wanting her company, he couldn't help but see the humor in her demanding question, and raised his eyebrows to her, shrugging in silent question at the obvious. To his relief – and his added amusement – she just rolled her eyes. "Okay, well maybe up 'til _now_..." she muttered.

"It's fine, Max..." he relaxed into his smile. He might just convince her to stay, after all...

Max had been struggling to get her footing with Logan since she'd arrived. She usually had no problem waltzing in and temporizing her way through just about any situation, even with Logan, whether she was after something or showing up in response to a page, and even when she was pretending to follow up after a mission, in the mood to just check him out and satisfy herself that he was okay and fighting the fight as usual. But for whatever reason, the usually focused, serious Logan Cale had relaxed into a smile once he saw she was the one breaking into his place mid-blackout, reminding her of very first time she'd been in his place and he'd done the same thing.

_Crazy rich do-gooder._ Who else would smile so happily to find a burglar in his home?

And it was _that_ smile – combined with a softer version of the one he'd offered when he confessed his fear of heights – that had her thrown. She knew her reaction was irrational but she wasn't finding any better way to handle this. Maybe because he knew all her secrets, it was harder to hide from him...?

... he was still speaking, still chuckling a little as he said, his voice warm, "it's not like there's much going on at the moment, with the power off. If you stopped by for some reason, you shouldn't have to run off without taking care of it."

And she still hadn't thought of much of an excuse. "Just that," she lied quickly, "to see if your power was out too. I was on my way home when the power went out and I really needed a bath – long day and hot streets, ya know? And I just didn't want to face a cold tub if your hot water heater was still working. But I see the blackout even hit over here in Money Town, too."

She had the advantage of the darkness, to her relief; she knew she wouldn't have been able to make eye contact for such a lame excuse under normal circumstances. But there was so little ambient light in the entry hallway for Logan to see her that his eyes skittered through and around her, following her generally but clearly not seeing details. She dropped her head a little, just to be sure he wouldn't know she was staring, and watched him closely for his reaction. At his grin, and the sparkle she saw in his eyes he'd never shown her before, she knew that either he had bought her story – or he just didn't care why she'd come. Putting aside for the moment just how _that_ made her feel, she saw that he was waiting for more, and realized she needed to find some additional excuse for not having just gone home when she saw that his sector was dark, too.

Max quickly thought back through everything they'd shared in these past couple weeks and, finding a hopeful possibility, added smoothly, "but since it did, and I was close, I thought I'd come up anyway – you know, to see if you any of that frozen mousse left over from dinner the other night. I never exactly got to take advantage of that dinner you made, and since the power's gonna be out for a while, it wouldn't stay frozen much longer."

"You have some inside source that it's going to be a long blackout?"

His grin was teasing, rakish, almost like when he'd held that gun on her the first time, definitely like the one when he called her over for dinner. Maybe it _was_ only because he didn't know she watched him so closely, and he wouldn't have shown her that look again if he knew she did. But it was there, and it was about _her_. And that made her feel ... _what?_ Desirable? That wasn't it; she knew that from countless horn-dogs out there ... Maybe she felt _desired. _By _him_.

And for whatever reason, that was a whole different ballgame...

"Just the guys I heard downstairs, talking about it." She would _not_ let him know how he'd affected her. "Someone knows somebody with the utility company – guess they blew out a big one, this time."

"Same intel I got, from the Informant Net," he nodded, but still with a note of teasing, almost as if it was a bit of an inside joke. He seemed to be still considering her, his smile softening as he became more focused on their conversation than his fighting the dark to see her. He hadn't even lit any candles yet, she noticed, relying on the glow of the three-quarter moon in his large windows and familiarity with the place to get by. "But the mousse is gone, sorry. And everything else in the freezer needs cooking – there isn't much, a chicken, a steak and a couple fish fillets..."

'_Isn't much,' _Max mused, hearing how innocently he said that, certain he wasn't thinking at all how that was more meat than would be consumed, in total, in her apartment building in a week...

"But if the power isn't on by tomorrow, they'll be thawed out and we'll have to cook them, soon..."

She smirked. "And that's gonna happen, how? Last time I checked it took power for that, too."

"Not if you have a barbecue grill and some charcoal." Logan was beaming again. "And I just happen to have a grill and a stash of emergency charcoal for just such an occasion. In fact, last time we had a long blackout, we had quite the party out in back. Everyone brought what they had and we had something of a community picnic. A lot of people in the building came down, and some of the people who work in the area came too – a few even brought their families. We pretty well cleaned out everyone's freezers and refrigerators, and managed to cook most of it before we finally ran out of charcoal."

Max blinked in surprise, not just at the image he drew for her, turning his fancy building into a soup kitchen of sorts, but at how good a memory it was for him, how he clearly had been pleased to play Santa Claus with food that otherwise would have gone bad. _Maybe not all that innocent of reality after all_, she mused...

"So you may just have a cook-out to attend tomorrow, Max, if the power is out much longer. Bring Cindy and Kendra, and anyone else who'd like a hot meal," he added.

"I'll put it on our social calendar," she grinned, catching his mood for teasing.

"But that doesn't help you for a late night snack tonight," he mused. "I have some strawberries.. Just got 'em this morning..."

She weakened a little at the thought of fresh, ripe strawberries, usually too expensive for her, other than the rare times that she could convince the market's vendors to sell her just a few loose ones, more than that just a waste of money that could go further with bread or canned vegetables. Since meeting Logan he'd offered her real coffee and warm, filling food, often the kind that was way out of her price range and that he seemed to take for granted. But for some reason, this time, she just felt guilty at the thought of eating his stash. It just felt wrong to keep taking advantage, no matter how much money he had – or how ready he seemed to be to share his wealth with her. Hiding her disappointment that she hadn't just accepted his offer, she reminded him, "they're not gonna go bad on you, though. They'll be okay at least a while longer if you keep your fridge closed, won't they?"

He shrugged, "yeah, but you're welcome to some if you like. You came all this way..."

Max smiled softly at his easy generosity. "They'd be better for your cook-out, tomorrow. How 'bout if you save some for me for then?"

His smile in return was slow and thoughtful, as if her response impressed him in some way. "Happy to," he agreed softly. "You know, Max..." he began, a new thread of regret in his voice now. "The power's only been off a half hour – even a badly insulated water heater would still have hot water for a while. You could still get your hot bath..."

Logan knew his words might run Max right out his door and send her home. He still wanted her company; the more she said, the more he heard from her, made him crave even more time to talk with her, to get to know her – but he also knew she'd be expected at work in the morning, power or no power. With the days she had, rushing around her bike in an often-grimy city, a bath would be just about the only luxury she had. It was only fair to remind her that she might not be foreclosed from it just yet...

But she snorted immediately. "What 'water heater?' In our part of town, the 'water heater' is a stove, a couple pots of water at a time, and a lot of hauling back and forth from the kitchen to the bathtub..."

This time, his naivete about how she lived really was genuine. He first looked surprised, and then – _what ... pitying? No, it wasn't that – sad,_ maybe – for her. _Given this place, I guess he thinks I have it pretty bad_, she realized. But his look shifted again and he spoke, voice again soft – _caring._ _For her_. Max found herself wondering if she'd ever heard that tone directed at her before, from anyone... "Then you're welcome to all the hot water I have here. The tank is full; there's plenty for a good long shower, or a bath, if you'd rather. Help yourself."

The normal warnings that would have flashed through her head at an offer like that – _'what's in it for you?' 'What do you want from me?'_ – never even flickered near the surface of her thoughts as she watched his face for its revealing, candid expressions never shown in the light of day. "You sure you don't need the hot water...?" she heard herself asking. He shook his head immediately, his smile still lingering softly. _He really has a great smile_, Max found herself reflecting. _He ought to pull it out more often..._

"Had a shower a few hours ago, and I can't think of any other reason I'd need it. Use all you want."

**************

Logan thought he saw her smile in the darkness and listened as, her mood suddenly lightened, Max bounced down the hall toward the guest bath. He started to follow, offering to light a few candles so she'd find things, but she didn't seem to be too bothered by the dark. _Maybe that's something else she can do_, he mused, humored – and then sobered a little to remind himself that maybe she really _could_... and reminded himself to watch out for assumptions of any sort when it came to Max...

"Hey, Max" he followed her as far as the hall to say, "there are already candles in the guest bath – in the sconces around the mirror, and some more in the top right drawer, for ... for inside the shower, if you want them." _Don't dream of going there, Cale_, he breathed to himself, then managed, "matches too."

He heard the drawer. "Oh – got 'em, thanks."

"No problem..." he breathed, trying to shake himself from the immediate image of Max ... in his shower ... in candlelight... "Let me get you some towels..."

He went on past the guestroom to the linen closet, congratulating himself on having been so calm as he offered the shower and then, with another calm smile, his best, fluffy towels. Seeing her smile again in return before disappearing into his guestroom, Logan reflected that he probably shouldn't be too surprised to hear she didn't have a working hot water heater. She had actually used his shower once before, the morning after she'd spent an uncomfortable night on his couch, wracked with seizures and looking more lost and afraid than he'd seen her before. By the morning she said she had to get to work and, powerless to stop her from going, suggested that he at least make her some breakfast. He'd casually mentioned his shower for her wait, and didn't think anything of it, hearing the water as he made french toast _ala_ Cale. But a quieter, appreciative Max had emerged...

_In surprise, seeing her still looking small and fragile, he'd asked, concerned, "are you sure you should leave yet?"_

_She nodded, "I'm okay," she offered, then, dropping her eyes as if she'd taken something priceless from him, said, "thank you, Logan – for everything ... for your shower. It was ... perfect. All that hot water – and a real shower, not just a tub..."_

He'd been damn close to just giving her the whole penthouse, right there and then.

Logan heard the water start now, just as he had before, but was glad to know that this time she was herself, feeling fine, and might enjoy the hot water even more. With a soft smile to himself, he turned to go back to the computer room. He didn't know what was in store, but had to admit that the blackout seemed a whole lot less of a hassle than ten minutes ago...

He went around the penthouse, methodically lighting the candles and a couple oil lamps he kept out for nights without lights. He moved on auto-pilot, his thoughts on Max and her sudden, unexpected but surprisingly welcome visit. In host mode, he wondered about feeding her, but she'd already turned down his offer of strawberries. He didn't know if she was being polite, or really not hungry. Maybe he'd just find another way to offer. Even though she wasn't mid-seizure, he still worried about her wandering around late at night, during a blackout, less for her physical safety than the opportunity for her to be spotted and stopped by law enforcement. She'd stayed the last time she was stuck there when the power went off when she hadn't had much of a choice, as bad as her seizures were. He wondered if he could convince her to stay this time...

He realized that, with the building plans he'd just printed ready for review with her, he actually had a legitimate excuse to have her stay awhile, to go over the mission and explain what he needed for the two break-ins. There was not real hurry for either break-in, but he'd leave it to Max if she wanted to take advantage of the black-out. He turned back to the computer room to gather everything and take it to his dining room table, where they could spread everything out, lighted the candles he had there, and returned with additional candles to add more light for their work.

He lay out the print-outs and security information he'd gathered for these missions across the table, grimacing a little even in the generous candlelight, when he suddenly remembered his find of the other day. With a wide, pleased grin, spun around to head for the front closet. There, he pulled out the camping lantern he'd had from years before and the brand new, hard to find six volt batteries he'd just managed to find. Grabbing one of the batteries from the box, he dropped it in his lap with the lantern and sailed back to the table. _This thing could light Seattle_, he grinned to himself, depositing lantern and battery on the table, and moving out to the kitchen to get his coffee carafe and a couple fresh mugs. Delivering them to the dining room sideboard, he went back again to look around the kitchen and for what he might offer Max to eat as a snack with her coffee. In the faint light of the candles lit there, saw the small container of rolls Mrs. Moreno had sent down to him before she'd left for a weekend visit with her son, still fussing that he looked as if he hadn't gained back all his pre-injury weight yet. He grabbed them then went to root around in his pantry, finding honey and a tiny jar of some yet-unopened jam.

He returned to his dining room with his fourth load as he heard the water shutting off, and placed the rolls and spreads with a couple plates, knives and napkins next to the carafe. Satisfied with his small offering, he went around the table to lift the lantern and unwrap the precious, boxy battery...

_...to be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed; no profits made. **

**A/N:** Please see Chapter I for the details about how this gift for Latenightrain came about.

_Sorry to have slowed down in posting, but this will bring this gift closer to resolution. Merry Christmas-in-July-August-September to Latenightrain and all of you reading, and my thanks for the comments along the way. Love those reviews! They help keep the M/L love alive! :D_

**************

**FIGHTING THE POWER: Blackout Edition**

**************

Max didn't close the doors from the hall and the guest room until she'd lit the candles inside the attached bath – she might have extremely useful night vision, but even cats had to have _some_ ambient light to see, and this particular bathroom was an internal room with no windows.

She really hadn't considered the idea of ending up in Logan's shower when she'd decided to come see him, and it hadn't even occurred to her when she sorted through all the possible excuses she might use about why she'd come. She grinned at her good fortune, that her good deed had been rewarded with an apparently unworried and contented Logan, an apparently believable excuse – and a tank full of hot water offered to her by Logan as his own idea.

So what if she hadn't been too quick at coming up with a legitimate excuse? It was an extra prickly situation, checking up on him without giving away the fact she was motivated primarily by worry for him, and it had all worked out, anyway. She'd gotten by this long by being a nimble learner, and it just meant that she'd need to stock up on some reasonable justifications for coming over for future use – because she had a hunch she might need to make more visits like this ... _just to keep an eye on things_, she assured herself...

She lit the candles she found on the counter in the bathroom, and stepped around to eye the tub as well as the shower stall, both waiting for her. The bathtub, large and gleaming in the soft candle glow, was tempting – but not as tempting as the twinkling green eyes and happy, sexy smile that awaited her down the hall. With a self-conscious smirk at herself, Max pivoted to open the glass door of the shower stall and reached up to the small overhead shelves built into the dark marble. Pulling the sparkling glass chimneys from their perches, she lit the scented votives inside. _A shower would feel just almost as good, and it's so much quicker..._

As the tiny flames grew and added to the light in the bath, Max went back though the guestroom, quietly, to shut the door to the hallway – but once there, lingered a moment, listening, to see if she could tell what Logan was up to now. She heard some rustling of papers, the rubber-on-wood squeak of a quick pivot as he moved again, and some unconscious, cheery humming – _humming_ – from the same man who had not long ago lectured her that "by being alive, you're involved" in every victim's problems, every bad guy's scam...

She pulled the hall door closed, slowly and silently, feeling another smile appear at the incongruity, followed quickly by an unfamiliar flutter of butterflies in her belly as she remembered his reaction to her appearance. She'd expected him to be okay with her showing up unannounced, but not _this_ – not so pleased ... not so _happy_.

_Don't get all sappy, Max; the guy's alone in a blackout, stuck up here and just glad to have company. Nothing more than that,_ she tried telling herself as she went back into the guest bath and pulled that door shut, too._ Don't believe the drama that Cindy and Kendra are selling; they don't know who he really is or who I am – or that he __**does**__ know, and knows not just who, but __**what**__ I am. __Just enjoy your shower, tell him thanks and goodnight – you'll both have had a nice, friendly night. No need to make it more than it is..._

Funny thing about butterflies, though. They don't listen worth a damn.

**************

Max remembered from the last time that anything she needed – soap, shampoo, toothpaste and new toothbrushes, even some lotions – was in the linen closet right inside the bathroom. She opened it and found everything she remembered, as well as more towels. She grinned again as she glanced at the towels he'd handed her on her way in, even thicker and softer than those in the closet. Turning to lift them to her nose, she breathed in the fresh, just-washed scents of laundry soap and ...

... and _Logan_.

Max actually blushed.

Shaking off the images his scent raised in her head, she laughed a little to herself as she peeled off her clothes and leaned into the shower, turning on the water. He might be a sharp guy but he couldn't know what his scent did to her, so wouldn't have given her these for their olfactory effects – would he?

_Would he if he knew? _

Max stepped in the shower and let the hot water pelt her with all its generous power. _So much for not making this more than it is, Max,_ she chided herself. As her muscles unknotted in the powerful spray, she relented enough to wonder about Cindy's insistence that she _knew_ Logan now, with their shared vigil as they worried about her in Langford, and that she was sure of his interest in her, even if Max wouldn't acknowledge it. She wondered, too, about Kendra's endless romanticism and ready enjoyment of men and their attentions. _Kendra doesn't have to hide who she is or watch out for people who want her in a box_, Max pulled out her old excuse. And then it dawned on her ...

... _and __**you**__ don't have to hide from Logan..._

She _didn't_ have to hide from Logan. It was something she knew and had learned to appreciate these last few weeks, but it hadn't ever hit her in this context before. All the excuses for hiding, all the secrecy and distance she put between herself and others – the sort of thing that led the men in her life to call her a "human fog bank" – or worse – _none_ of that was needed for Logan because not only did he know the truth about her, he was fine with it, took it all completely in stride.

_Stride? Hell, Max – just try to deny that look you saw in his eyes tonight..._

She felt her cheeks warm again, even more than the wonderfully hot water pelting her face...

Even though her sudden awkwardness had made her feel strange and act all pissy to him, he didn't seem to care – the just opposite. He actually seemed sort of pleased to see her. Maybe he just relaxed a little, in the darkness, but his smiles for her were different tonight – and it wasn't that player attitude she got from him when he got her back up here that second time. More like ...

... like the crap Cindy had been handing her ever since Langford, that no way did he see her just as the hired help and that if he really did have some sort of 'errand' for her every time he called, he was damn straight makin' shit up to get her there because the man had _feelings_ for her ...

Since he'd been shot, since he'd been back and she'd officially been part of the Eyes Only roster, he'd been pure gentleman, proper and businesslike, even when he called her over for her that night – sure he'd been smiling and flirting and almost acted as he had before, until her seizure got them both out of dinner mode. But even then, it hadn't felt real, not like he was seeing her, reaching out to _her_ – more like it was just to the handy X-5 he could take on, probably like his super-rich family took on servants. That was how he grew up, wasn't it? And though she could hear Original Cindy in her head, telling her he was no better than she was just because he had money, Max couldn't help remembering the times she'd been sent "around back" to make her deliveries to his family's part of town, and the faces on some of the people doomed to work in their kitchens and bathrooms and laundries...

_Face it, Max, that's what you've been afraid of – that rich-boy Logan won't think you're all that special, no matter whose DNA they used to concoct you._

But tonight ... _his smiles were different tonight_.

She hurriedly rinsed off all the soap and the fresh smelling shampoo he'd provided and turned off the water. She suddenly wanted to get back and see more of those smiles...

**************

Logan crumbled the paper he'd pulled off the battery as he took a look at the camping lantern he'd brought up from storage not that long ago. It still looked fine; it was in perfect working order the last time he'd used it. _Not exactly camping, but close enough – still on my feet then, too_, he remembered, unconsciously adding yet another item to his "before and after" tally.

He snorted at himself, mentally kicking himself for still indulging in such pointless score-keeping, and reminded himself that the best thing about his camping fling was its stash of equipment that came in very handy in the early days of the Pulse, when they'd gone weeks at a time without power. Since then, he'd managed to get a number of better items for powerless days – that regular-size charcoal grill, for example – but things like this lantern were still just what he needed for times like tonight. And now what he had the right battery, he and Max would have plenty of light for their planning.

He pulled off the compartment cover and pushed in the bulky battery, snapped the cover back on, and grinned as he flipped the switch.

Nothing.

Surprised, he flipped it again, still getting nothing, and felt a small disappointment that his lantern had let him down. But he wasn't done yet; the lantern had stood unused for quite a while and might just have gathered dust, or the leads might have taken on some corrosion.

_Why would the lantern be any different than everything else and not be affected by the Pulse?_

With that thought amusing him for the moment, and hearing the shower sounds suddenly stop, Logan pulled one of the candles closer and set to work on his lantern, bound and determined now to make it work...

**************

She'd come out to find her clothing in the heap she'd left them, practically radiating the grungy smells of the day. _With what you had in your head, thinking you'd make him understand you were as good as any woman he'd find out at his fancy yacht club, the last thing you need is that pile of stink back on you..._

With a grin, she remembered that she had another option. Her very own shirt and riding pants still lay folded neatly on his dryer, no doubt tended to when found in a pile just like these, after the last time she'd used his shower.

That time, assuming she had work ahead, he'd offered some sweats and a pullover, which she'd worn to go home. She hadn't retrieved her own clothes from him because she was determined to return his, in trade – and she just hadn't been to his place directly from hers yet to bring them. A tiny smile grew at her realization – she could just sneak back to his laundry room and slip into her clothes.

Wrapping one of his towels around her, she went through the bedroom silently and opened the hall door, no sound giving her away. She heard some very faint sounds of Logan puttering in the dining room, and frowned only a moment – it would be easier to sneak by if he wasn't right there at the hall, but with her training, she still ought to get by without his being aware.

Leaving the door open behind her, Max made her way, silently, down the hall.

**************

Logan carefully – and stubbornly – cleaned off the contact posts in the lantern. He'd checked the battery and clearly if was a fresh, fully charged battery, and the lantern had been fine when he last used it. Okay, so it had been several months, but it was good quality and was as durable as they came.

He gave the battery compartment a wipe-down for good measure, then carefully put the battery back in, making sure the proper leads met the right posts. He snapped the cover back into place, put the lantern on the table, and flipped the switch to have the dining room and hall suddenly bathed in bright, golden light...

... and in his hall, captured by the light, was the glistening, perfect form of a towel-clad, still-damp Max...

Logan's eyes grew huge as he took in every detail, every exquisite feature before him: the honeyed, golden skin, the shapes of her shoulder and thigh and cleavage, her own wide eyes, apparently as stunned as he was. But inexplicably, his eyes were suddenly drawn to the only movement between them as the two were literally as frozen as any deer, caught in his "headlights:" along a lock of her hair, a slender, darkened strand that had already started to draw back into its usual curl, a single, fat drop of water made its way, as if in slow motion, down and around and around the spiral of hair, until, reaching the end, it wavered ... let go ... and fell to land in a tiny splash just above Max's left breast...

Logan gulped. His eyes darted up to Max's, all his cool sophistication gone ...

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed; no profits made. **

**A/N:** Please see Chapter I for the details about how this gift for Latenightrain came about.

_Finally, things have finally come to a close in this Christmas-in-July fic. As the story became more AU it sort of went its own way, so hope it's an entertaining 'what if' for M & L. Thanks to everyone reading, and to all the other authors who participated in this year's M/L gift exchange. A special thanks to those of you who are still taking the time to send PMs or reviews – we just don't have too many of you left in M/L land, so all of you still with us are very much appreciated.  
_

**************

**FIGHTING THE POWER: Blackout Edition**

**************

Logan's eyes were wide and stunned as they slipped up from Max's tawny, damp cleavage to meet hers. But in only a moment, he seemed to remember himself and looked away, reddening, as he reached back to flip off the lantern's glare. "Sorry..." he murmured, fumbling a little with the switch. But rather than casting them into darkness, the loss of the lantern's light bathed them in the soft, golden glow of candlelight around them, and even with only his peripheral vision, fuzzy without his lenses to clear it, Logan couldn't help but notice that Max's glistening, burnished skin looked even more ethereally lovely, her dark eyes even darker and her lips, a darker cherry red...

Max had been surprised at the sudden brightness, catching her towel-only, but after a momentary hesitation in the unexpected spotlight, she had started to grin, just as Logan moved toward the lantern. It wasn't like his towel was much shorter than the skirts her friends wore clubbing, and it definitely covered more than her thread-bare bathing suit did. Besides, it was well worth the stunned look she'd seen on Logan's usually stoic, controlled features, and the other things she saw there – _maybe he __**does**__ notice you're a girl_, she nearly giggled to herself – were almost a relief. _And just how would he have looked if he knew everything going through your head, back there in his shower?_ she was wondering...

...but then he turned off the lantern – and _apologized_ ...

There was such a sad sound of defeat in his voice – the last thing Max expected, after his initial longing gaze. Maybe it was that sound, and the way he looked now – so hopeless, all of a sudden – compared to what she'd seen moments before, and to what she'd seen in him earlier, when he assumed the dark hid him. Maybe it was the way her imagination had gone all sorts of new places while she thought about him, in the shower ... in the dark. Maybe it was how they'd been thrown back into the candlelight around them now, its soft golden light showing Max the still-bowed profile of Logan Cale, not looking up at her even though his expression moments ago told her he wanted to. Whatever it was, she heard herself reply softly. "_I'm_ not..."

With that, he looked up again, his expression a mixture of uncertainty now, amid the self-conscious distance he'd suddenly snapped back up in place between them.

Wanting to breach that divide, Max shrugged, coming a step closer, and pictured herself being as glib as Kendra or Original Cindy when they saw someone who caught their eye. "That look you gave me just now..." she began, "when you saw me like this ... it was worth it. I kinda wondered, before ..." She suddenly realized none of the flirty pick-up lines she had heard from her friends, and none of the insincere stammering of the boys she'd jumped when in Heat, had any place here – not for Logan; not for what she was thinking about him. She looked into his deep green eyes, full of intelligence and hurt and history, and suddenly her words came on their own, without filtering thought. "... I was worried that I was just another soldier in Eyes Only's army ..." she explained softly. "You know ... just another killing machine you have on speed dial, for when you need one."

His look shifted to surprise – and then to something else, maybe something akin to guilt, she thought. He opened his mouth but seemed to think better of it, and closed it again, maybe searching for the right thing to say. When he still said nothing, Max suddenly felt the painful awkwardness of having completely misread his reactions. Fearing the worst, she backpedaled, " ... and hey, it wouldn't be the first time, and it's all good, I just wasn't sure if ..."

"Max..." he interrupted, shaking his head – then paused, still clearly uncertain about what to say. After a moment, he finally confessed, quietly, "I've ... just ... worked really hard to keep it all business, when you're here. I didn't want to ... to risk our relationship with my ... lack of professionalism."

It was her turn to look surprised. Just as Logan started to regret his sudden confession, a new, hesitant smile made its way back to her features, and he was amazed to see a look of hope there too, in her eyes. Wondering if he was really seeing what he thought he did, or if he'd simply just lost his mind, he finally shrugged and admitted, "it just didn't seem fair to ask you to do so much for Eyes Only, and ... and have to deal with some guy's fantasies, too..."

Her smile lifted even more at that. "Fantasies?" she asked, her voice soft and expectant.

He reddened again, his eyes dropping back to his lap. He drew a breath, and Max suddenly knew this was hard for him. _Why?_ she wondered. _It's like he thinks I'm gonna freak out that he's attracted ... _

_... and __**is**__ he?_

"I'm the one who should be sorry..." Max said suddenly, fishing now, bursting to know if he really had thoughts about her ... maybe even about _them._ At his look in response, as articulate as any voiced question could be, she went on, "all the richy-rich girls you're used to, _they _wouldn't just come running down the hall in a towel ... not in an upscale place like this..."

He actually relaxed a little to chuckle, with a wry smirk, "Don't be too sure..." As he looked at her and saw, within her joking, some uncertainty of her own, Logan realized that Max _did_ have some insecurities about how his family's social set might go about such things. "But I don't know of anyone who could look quite so good in my towel..." Without realizing he did, Logan lifted his hand to her, wanting to assure her that she had no reason to give his family's phony, shallow world any thought. "Max ... they shouldn't be _any_one's role model..." He watched as she slowly and silently came close to take his outstretched hand. "Not for how they act ... not for how they think ... not for how they'd never pitch in and make a difference, the way you have."

She shivered slightly. She was way too used to being the focus of male attention, but for her looks, her body – _for what was behind the towel._ And she'd seen it, Logan had shown that male-gape of appreciation, too, at first, with what he saw. But now, to compare her like this to the women he must have dated, the ones in the life his family led, and to promise that she was better than they were? She felt herself drawn to him even more ... and began to believe that the man who so cavalierly announced that they didn't have "that kind of relationship" might have hoped that someday, they might...

"Max?" he prodded, a slight sound of concern under the warmth of his voice. He'd seen her shiver and wasn't sure now what to make of it. "Are you alright?"

She looked away, gathering her emotions back together and nodded as she tightened her hold on Logan's hand and moved even closer, into his lap – into his arms. "I will be..." she whispered.

**************

Some hours later, they lay quietly together, tangled in Logan's soft, sweet-smelling sheets, his long fingers tangled in Max's dark curls. From their initial sweet, cautious exploration, each of them swept, unbelieving, into an intimacy they hadn't seen coming, no matter their closely held desires. From a growing, adrenaline-fired daring, once they each sensed that their desires were indeed mutual, a smoldering, hormonal, pheromone-driven intensity began to brew between them. After some breathless, eager moments in the dining room they found their way to Logan's bed, almost without conscious thought. From dining room to hall to bedroom, they moved from clothed to less so in the span of a very few minutes.

But once in his bedroom, when Max paused long enough to light the candles across his dresser and night tables, Logan came back to himself long enough to watch the exquisite, remarkable form of this woman he'd craved since first meeting her, the woman he had cared for, more and more, the more he got to know her. As the glowing candles brought a soft light to the room, and she turned back to him with a mix of fun and sexual hunger in her expression, he shifted from his chair to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. He'd lost his shirt somewhere out in his dining room, and now Max dropped to her knees to play at his belt and zipper.

And Logan knew he wanted more for her...

It wasn't entirely altruistic; he had not been anywhere close to jumping in bed with a woman since he'd been shot and he felt a fleeting regret that he hadn't let Bling give him _that_ particular lecture before this. But with a squirming, eager Max in his lap, clearly having no issues with the chair at the moment, he was happy to make his own way with things. Still... Max deserved more attention and tenderness than she was apt to see from the likes of Eric or other teenaged Lotharios out there. The fact that slowing things down a bit for her might also let him catch his breath and figure out how his new reality worked in bed was just a bonus...

He caught her hands gently and, with a quiet strength, brought her up to standing again, before him, her own clothes shed back in the hall. Tenderly, and with the honest reverence he felt for her, he let his fingers and palms caress down along her back, her rounded derriere and firm thighs, to bring them up again and linger along her hips, her breasts... he leaned in to take first one breast, then the other, into his mouth, caressing the sweet skin with unhurried worship, and as she responded, first tentatively, then more readily, he moved with her, made note of what pleased her and made sure to do it some more...

Time seemed to stand still then rush forward then stand still again, their bodies beginning to respond to the other without will or thought, as again the tempo picked up and they moved together in a heated, undeniable desire for the other which had been lying in wait since they'd met. All fears and missions and self-consciousness left behind with their more rational selves, they came together and apart, had crested and ebbed and flowed with their cravings and myriad emotions, resting and rushing together, making music with their bodies and speaking truths to each other they didn't even suspect they knew. They moaned and laughed, gasped and panted for breath ... and the pent up desires and curiosities and hungers were slowly and repeatedly sated, there in the dark.

But now those rational selves, the ones never too far from the surface for either of them, began again to take note of their surroundings, of their very naked bodies pressed together, willing and warm, perspiration still glistening along their contours ... their lips and fingertips still so close, their forms so very perfectly nestled together...

Max felt her eyes fill with tears as her thoughts turned back along those first moments, as the wonder of it all began to sink in...

_She'd been a child in this, really; unschooled, unenlightened. She was not a novice, and was usually the aggressor, since always before she had been in the throes of her heat-induced delirium and sought only the fastest, hardest, and most permanent relief. All her former partners – _conquests, _really – had been merely hormonal boys, more than eager to oblige, and not in the least disturbed that it was all about the ultimate act, as long as they had their shot, too. But with Logan ..._ her eyes spilled over with the realization and its importance, _she understood what had been missing, with the others. With Logan, it was not just sex, but making love ... it was more than the last two seconds of satisfaction – it was all about getting there, too..._

As Logan's thoughts began to reawaken from his glorious stupor, he was filled with a sense of wonder and pleasure he hadn't felt in years. All his fears of inadequacy around Max, all his reasons he needed to keep her at arms' length – his age and hers, the sheer perfection of Max ... his own, damaged body – all of that had been perfectly rebutted hours ago when the breathtaking, made-to-perfection Max put her arms around him, looked at him as if he were Adonis, and made love to him – _every_ part of him, and more than once – without hesitation or awkwardness. And, just as miraculous, he responded – all of him – in new and, oh, so intriguing ways...

His eyes actually filled a little as he began to grin, widely, with the joy and relief of what had just happened. He felt as if he would burst; he could swear he could fly. He was handsome; he was whole; and it was all because Max believed he was and had looked at him with such desire and belief...

He felt a tiny drop of moisture on his shoulder, where she lay curled into him, and his joy took an immediate right turn. "Max?"

His voice was warm and filled with such sudden, sincere concern for her that Max felt another tear escape to join the first on his bare skin.

"Max..." he repeated, having felt the second too, and he rolled up onto his other elbow, curling up over her in protective, worried uncertainty. His hand raised to her cheek and, finding it wet, asked "What did I do?"

Embarrassed, she tipped her face away, not ready to let him know the worst about her, for fear that all this – this new, magical connection with someone – with _Logan_ – would be lost. _But he thinks he's hurt you_, a voice inside her reasoned, _and that's the last thing he deserves to think..._

"You made me feel better than anyone ever has..." she whispered, the admission still painful enough that she cringed to manage even this. "I ... never knew it was supposed to be ... that it was supposed to ... feel _good_..."

His heart broke for her, and he fought down the wave of anger at Manticore and everyone since who must have taken advantage of a child on the run. Even if she was strong and skilled, she must have needed shelter, food ... guidance ... and what was she forced to do to get them? "My God..." he breathed, unconsciously holding her a little closer, and brought his forehead to hers. "Max ... I'm so sorry..."

She didn't understand the stew of emotions which were suddenly pressing at her, the old, familiar panicky need to run pushing at her to move being overwhelmed by the need to just let Logan hold her like this ... the one shred of sense left in her at the moment knew how ludicrous her reaction was, but at the moment, she had the feeling that this college-educated computer geek, who fought with words, not fists, and who was dependent on a wheelchair to get from room to room, could take on Lydecker _and_ every X-5 she had ever met.

...another tear fell, and her breath came in a very girly hiccup.

She took a deep breath and moved to kiss him, feeling him respond with a mixture of surprise and protection and concern – for her. She broke the kiss, wondering if she would ever be able to tell him everything without his hating her for what she was ... "You have nothing to be sorry for..." she promised him.

He searched her face, the candlelight in the bedroom allowing him enough light to see the look in her eyes for him and to believe her words ... but also to see the pain still there, too. "For what you went through..." he explained, "for my not knowing..."

"But you've made it better..." she said softly.

He felt as if he'd been sucker-punched. "Max," he managed, suddenly realizing no words could be adequate other than what he'd said before. "I _am_ sorry ... no one deserves your life less than you do."

She looked into the troubled green eyes and felt yet another tear puddle in her eyes, even as her smile changed the tear's course. "Look who's talkin,'" she found herself daring to think about what this would mean tomorrow, and the next day, and the next week, and found that it wasn't nearly as frightening as she thought it would be to do so. "But maybe we can keep gettin' each other's back, like we have ... and maybe, like this some more, too."

In that moment, with those words, Logan saw the strength in Max that must have been what made her a survivor, that allowed her, time after time, to escape highly trained military professionals and all the resources their Black Ops specialists could muster. It struck him that it was even sadder still, and more unfair, that she shouldered it all so willingly, and was willing to keep moving, no matter the odds ...

"No matter what else, whatever I can do, I will," he vowed, "I will get your back however and whenever you need – that will never change, no matter what else may come along." Max saw the trademark Eyes Only intensity in Logan as he spoke, and felt a little tingle that the words were meant for her alone. But she saw his look soften then, too, and a small smile make its way back into his features. "And as for the rest ... 'some more, like this...?' I'm all yours, Max. Blackout or power ... rain or shine ..."

As his grin grew, hers did too, and she dared to move close again and kiss him, fully and hungrily. After a moment, she pulled back to assess ... and he flashed her one of his patented, beautiful, sexy Logan Cale grins.

"... feast or famine ... hell or high water..."

She knew if she didn't do something, he'd keep going, just because he could. And laughing now, Max pulled Logan to her, crushing his lips with hers, and rolled back on top of him. "Then I'm ready to collect," she growled, barely lifting her lips from his.

He would never forget her words, never forget that Max had never been shown love during sex, never had learned that making love was far more than the act. But they had time, now ... and his being older just might mean he had more life experience to share ...

... and the blackout might just keep them busy a while....


End file.
